holyposition | IC Inbox

It seems mothers remain exactly the same across centuries, then.

[A bit of levity. But only a bit, because what Tim says certainly is serious.]

That seems all a bit paranoid of them, doesn't it? That is... [Goodsir stops, frowning. Sodomy is a sin, granted. A crime, also. But as wide-eyed as Goodsir often seems, he's not actually naive. Men he knew to be perfectly capable and perfectly loyal dabbled in some occasional trysts. Was it wrong? Yes. But did it endanger national security? Heavens no.]

To be perfectly frank, Tim, normal intercourse was a greater source of concern from a medical standpoint, at least in any military service. Syphilis is a terrible problem. Buggery not so much.

[He smiles sweetly.]

That is one of the former Spanish colonies, yes? I do wonder how I'd fare in a warmer climate. It's still on the coast, isn't it? That would be lovely. I'm certain there are many animals that I've never seen before who make the Pacific their home.

[Give this man a crab to watch and he's happy.]

Very well. If we are ever driven from this place, I shall accompany you to see California.

[ It makes him crack a smile. He doesn’t mean to speak ill of her, or anyone in his family. They loved him well and raised him right, and they’ve always been close, except for this one thing that they wouldn’t understand. ]

It is paranoid. I guess we live in paranoid times. Everyone’s afraid.

[ Nuclear war, communism, a rapidly changing world. He’ll forgo the full history lecture right now. ]

They suspected Hawk, so they hooked him up to a polygraph and interrogated him. [ A beat, before he realizes that needs an explanation. ] It’s a machine that measures your blood pressure and pulse to gauge whether or not you’re lying. It’s serious.

[ But Goodsir sees it sensibly. And that’s as good as he can hope for, for someone (he assumes) doesn’t share the same proclivities. ]

Yeah, all the way on the west coast. I’ve never been. But from what I read, it’ll be a hotbed of political activity. That’s where I’ll want to be, if I want to join the movement. There or New York.

[ But he likes the idea of going further. Somewhere new. ]

I’m holding you to it. Wait until you see cars.

Paranoia, in my opinion, does very little to help the safety of anyone. It strangles any truly logical thought.

[Goodsir makes a mental note to look up the 1950s in the library.]

Ah, I see, as most people experience a higher heart rate when lying? I rather suspect it wouldn't work on the accomplished deceiver, though.

[One Cornelius Hickey could breeze through any number of polygraphs, he's sure.

Whatever proclivities Goodsir has are enough to inspire letters from his own mother, at any rate. But he has the excuse of being married to the sea.]

Cars, oh yes! I've seen a few on the, ah, video? The video tube on the phone.

[Every word sounds faintly ridiculous when he says it, like he's learning a new language.

He lights up suddenly.]

I shall have to look up your California.

[And this is how he will learn about Baywatch.]

Agreed.

[ Tim thinks of the wolf games, and how they made the guests tear at each other. The wild accusations of the first round, the betrayals of the later ones. They’d done better with last month’s zombies, with a clearer enemy. But back home, as it was with the killing games, the subversives could be anyone. And Tim had compromised his morals just the same, the way he’d bartered lives, chose to protect his own even though Baela was in graver danger. She died because of him. And whatever became of poor Caroline? ]

He found a way to beat it. [ ‘Accomplished deceiver.’ It makes him snort out a laugh, actually, as unflattering as it is. ] Don’t judge him too much.

Oh, good! You should let me show you the movie theater, those are much better than those short little videos. You get to see an entire story.

Oh! Oh, goodness, no, I didn't mean to insult your-- I'm so terribly sorry.

[Goodsir wishes that it was the generational differences that make him so awkward, but no. No, he's just like this. At least Tim doesn't seem upset.]

That would be lovely. Although even the 'videos' are wonderful. I plan to eventually watch some on Nunavut. I... can't quite bring myself to, now. But I will. I miss the land.

No, no, [ He insists, waving away the apology with a grin, somewhat conspiratorial. ] He'd laugh. And agree with you.

You do? Even after all that?

I should very much like to meet him properly. You speak so fondly of him; I can't help but think he must be a wonderful man.

[After all, if Tim is kind surely his partner is, too.]

Oh yes. Right until the end, I found it beautiful. I think...

[His voice, always so gentle, softens further.]

I don't mind that whatever is left of my body remains there. The other men, I feel badly for them, they deserved good Christian burials back home. But for myself... to have my bones bleached and broken upon the shale, below the most brutally gorgeous sky you've ever seen...

[He smiles.]

I would be quite content with that.

You can sit with us at dinner tonight, I'll introduce you.

[ It's a beautiful thought, that the place could be wondrous despite the tragedy. Maybe he'll be alright here after all. ]

It sounds romantic when you put it that way.

I would like that. Very much.

[Goodsir goes pink and smiles nervously.]

Does it? I tend to, ah. Ramble. My apologies.

[ Tim Laughlin, certified yapper and friends to yappers everywhere, isn’t bothered one bit, smiling and shaking his head. ]

No need to apologize. It’s charming.

As are you, Tim.

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